Missing
by A Middle Distance Maximum
Summary: Directly after Peeta is taken by the Captiol, Katniss has a realization, following an unusual nightmare, that something other than Peeta is missing. With a little help from an unexpected friend, she discovers the meaning behind this simple dream. Oneshot


Missing.

I've been constantly plagued with nightmares for the past two years. It made it so much better; it made _everything_ so much better to have somebody beside me every night who _understood_ what was happening in my mind. Someone who wouldn't give me sympathizing frowns every time I explained what I had seen. My life has changed so drastically without Peeta, I can't even...

This time my nightmare is more traumatizing than usual.

_It's a scene I've lived through before. We're on the beach during the Quell; Peeta is pulling the locket from around his neck. Nothing is out of the ordinary; nothing is out of place. Which makes it all the more terrifying. He's showing me the picture of my mother, of Prim and Gale. He's giving me _life_, in a way the cameras and crowds can't comprehend._

_President Snow will though. He'll know that Peeta is giving me Gale, that he's entangling our futures with this small action; that he's giving me a life free of forced marriages and promises. I grimace at the realization. I feel nauseous knowing that Snow can share in these moments. That he knows of the only things which Peeta and I have to ourselves. _

_The locket is closed and gently pressed into my palm._

"_This is more important than trying to save me," he says, vivid blue eyes penetrating into mine. This isn't right. He never said this before. I clasp the locket tighter in my hand, because I know this is what I will have left of him. I know that he's not coming back. But the locket is lighter than it should be. Peeta slowly begins to fade away into the jungle. He's gone and I have only the locket, my tears and the sand to console me._

_I shakily open the locket again. Something is missing. A sob breaks from my chest and I angrily fling the locket into the sea. The chain glints in the sunlight and I cry even harder._

I awake with a start in the drab, dark room. My heart thrums manically against my ribs. I think about the locket; the terror and horribly familiar longing. My cries are distinctly different from ones following my other nightmares. I'm _mortified_. The wails hardly break from my lungs, and my body tenses with an entirely new fear that I cannot place. Torrents of tears sting my eyes, blurring the already unclear room. I bury my head into my pillow, making an almost animal moan.

I wish that someone could see my despair, so that they could even register the condition I'm in. But they can't and they won't. I'm kept in the room because they believe I'm too weak to be under the strain of light. I can't even fathom where such an idea would come from. District Thirteen doctors are taking charge of me, as though they don't trust my mother's judgement on my state. I can bear the light and the heat physically, but when I consider that it's similar to the sun, I lose it. Like I said before, I'm crazy. They all seem to think so. Who else bawls when they think of the sun, and of sunsets? I think of Peeta with these, and I can't stand to bask in any sort of illumination.

These foreign doctors pump things into me, thinking I'll gain strength. They don't understand that this ache comes with the rise of the sun or the flicker of the light. No one else understands why I can't bear it. Nobody was there. These doctors don't understand what it's like when there is something that is vital, something other than a medicine that is missing.

_He_ was missing from the locket. He said my family needed me. I said I needed him. But why wasn't _his_ picture in the locket? Why would he give me Gale, and nothing of himself? If I have Gale, a piece of my personal puzzle will still be missing.

Suddenly, arms are pulling me gently from my pillow, prying my hands from fists around the sheets. I keep my eyes closed tightly.

"Sweetheart," comes Haymitch's voice. I forget my misery for a moment. Why hadn't I thought of confiding in Haymitch? He's been through this. He's lost someone he loved. His voice is almost kind, something so unusual I want to laugh. "You could keep the crying down."

I don't reel back with his comment. He says it in this new voice, and I know he wants to help me. I laugh, and so does he. "Is everyone asleep?" I manage out.

He nods and I let him pull me into a sitting position. His hands are gentle, so different from when we caught me with a syringe in my hand. I've long since forgiven him. I know it sounds strange coming from me, a person so oblivious of emotion. So unopened to emotion . Until now. I've forgiven Haymitch, because I've realized, you can't win against someone whose fighting for love. And in this battle, Peeta was the most avid warrior of all.

"We can walk if you want," he offers. I nod and he helps me from the bed. My legs are shaky because I've barely walked and because I'm still crying. His arm is securely on my back, steering me down the vacant hall. I'm sniffling soon, all the tears gone. We haven't spoken, but we never do much of that. We seem to understand each other with a few glances that words don't need to come out.

This underground building has rooms for members of the rebellion on one floor, as well as a training center, cafeteria for those training and multiple meeting rooms on it. There are wings for certain families and groups of people participating, and naturally I've been placed with my family, Gale's family, Haymitch, Finnick and anyone else who has something to do with the Hunger Games. We end up in the cafeteria and sit at a table, across from each other.

"You were saying something this time," Haymitch says. "About Peeta."

I stare at my shaking hands on the grey table top. They're trembling so violently that Haymitch reaches out and holds them down.

"It sounded different this time though. Deeper. More painful," he comments. "You said something was missing."

I let out a shallow laugh. It _is_ strange hearing Haymitch talk about this. I can't even look at him, the situation is so odd that I might keel over laughing. The sensation is wonderful, no matter how awkward and temporary it is.

"That locket," I whisper, not trusting my voice. Once again, I feel on the verge of tears. "With the pictures of Prim, and my mother and Gale..."

"I didn't tell him to do that. He asked for the locket and from there I went with the bangles."

I swallow, unsure of if Haymitch will understand what I'm about to say. "In this nightmare, his picture wasn't in it. It isn't in the locket. It's like I was under the impression that he had put a picture of himself in, in the dream. When I noticed it wasn't there, it was the worst feeling, even though it wasn't real." I'm sniffling relentlessly, and I give up on the hope that the tears will stop. My voice shakes and so I stop, pushing the hair back from my face strenuously. "I just don't... understand _why_ he wouldn't have put his picture. He loves me doesn't he?"

I look to Haymitch earnestly. "I don't think anyone loves you more than him."

I nod, smiling even though I knew the answer. A sob breaks out and I cover my mouth. "This is ridiculous, I should just go back..." I start to stand up.

"He never realized how much you needed him until that moment," Haymitch admits, shrugging. I sit again. He confirmed I wasn't being ridiculous by not saying anything to it.

"If my mother, or Prim, or Gale died I would have a piece of them! Peeta gave me that. But he never considered leaving a piece of himself for me!" I'm whispering, in a pained tone that is similar to a hushed shriek. "I have only what I let myself remember! I have nothing of Peeta left, of things that I can't remember. I remember his voice as I heard it, the way I wanted to! I have the ghost of his touch, but only the way my body remembers it! And it's so faint... all of this is so faint, Haymitch... I'm going to lose him. I'll have nothing left, not even a picture..."

"A picture wouldn't give you that all back, Katniss," Haymitch acknowledges quietly. I'm in such distress he looks frightened to talk. He stays silent. "We all forget eventually."

My old mentor seems to be far off, recollecting something from his own past.

"I realize now, and I've thought of it so much, his eyes were warmer when we were together. They shined differently," I say absently, drawing on the table with my finger. Haymitch is listening intently, and I can tell he's looking at me. I bring my gaze up. "I don't want to forget that shine."

Haymitch shakes his head with a throaty laugh. "Katniss, a picture wouldn't have made a difference. You would look at it and wish you remembered how his eyes shined, what his voice sounded like. It would make everything so much more painful."

I wonder wildly for a moment, if Haymitch is drunk. His voice is so clear, and his point is so relevant. And his tone isn't dripping in the cryptic nonsense that it usually does. It's so different than it normally is, and I haven't seen him drunk in so long that it is entirely bizarre.

"What else was on that locket, Katniss?" He asks like a teacher asking a child what letter the word dog begins with. He's hinting at something so obvious, that I've missed it. There's the normal Haymitch again.

I pull it from around my neck. The doctors thought I was going to strangle myself with it so they took it away. Prim, of all people, demanded I have it back. She assured the doctors I wouldn't make an attempt on my life with it. At the time, I wasn't so sure that I wouldn't use it for that reason, but I was grateful for her actions. Maybe Prim even saw what it was that I was missing, and that's why she thought I should have it back.

My fingers fumble over the mockingjay on the front, down the long glinting chain. I open it and examine the pictures carefully, looking for something. I close it after a few moments, defeated.

I gaze at Haymitch with a scowl, clearly not decoding what he had said. "A _mockingjay_!" He exclaims quietly. I look at the engraving again, letting my fingers glide over the different lustres that are the bird and the actual locket. I still don't understand.

"Think of the berries. We wouldn't be where we were right now if not for those berries. And why did you threaten to eat them? Because there were _two_ of you," Haymitch says. He evidently sees I'm not catching on.

I've thought of it before. People call me the mockingjay, because I've sparked the rebellion. But that is only because _I_ threatened to eat the berries; yet Peeta went along with it. I finally get what Haymitch is implying.

"There will always be two of you," he says quietly. "No matter what happens, Peeta is as much of the mockingjay as you are. And being the smartest of us all, he figured it out. He hinted at the thought of being part of the mockingjay when he asked for the locket. I'm pretty sure that was the only time he's played with selfishness his entire life."

"He wasn't being selfish." I'm so delighted, yet so horrified at this idea. That Peeta made himself one with me, that he knew this would all happen before I did.

He gave me a part of himself that I could keep forever.

"He's here," I whisper to myself, mostly because I want to hear it, to know it's true.

Nothing was ever missing.


End file.
